Waifs and Strays [Larry Stylinson]

Chapter Thirty-Three

So much drama this week!!! :D 2015 everybody :P I tell ya, I'm not going to be surprised by anything anymore this year. Are you guys all still alive?

Thank you so much for reading this story. I put so much work and effort into it and I just hope you guys all enjoy it :) love you all ♡

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Harry's POV

I am gay. There's no doubt anymore. And boy, am I gay.

I think I knew ever since I met Louis. I was drawn to him, attracted to him, even before I first got to see him when I was still blindfolded. Even just his voice and his mere nature had me wrapped around his finger in minutes. I just wasn't exactly sure what it meant and if I could trust my feelings. I never met somebody who was openly gay in my entire life. Nobody ever talks about it. I didn't know what to expect. Also, I was never in love. I never had these kind of feelings for anyone.

But now that the lips of this beautiful man are pressed against my own and I can feel his light stubble grazing my skin, I am a hundred precent sure of it. I am into men. And more specifically, into this amazing, sexy, reckless, funny, beautiful man.

His hands are still holding onto my face and neck while his fingertips are calmingly moving over my skin and through my hair. After the initial moment of shock, I have started responding to the kiss and grabbed onto his waist.

When he feels my response, he longingly takes my bottom lip between his teeth, drawing a pleasured sigh from my throat. Both of us are breathing heavily, still not completely recovered from all the shouting before. How did all this fighting and yelling result into this?

His tongue grazes over my bottom lip in the most delicious way and I know exactly was he wants, so I open my mouth slightly and allow his tongue to enter.

He grunts in pleasure and pulls me closer to him, making me lose my balance for a moment. I take a quick step to catch myself and kick against something solid on the ground. At first I don't even care because the tip of his tongue plays with mine like we have done this our entire lives, making my head feel dizzy. But when I realize that the object next to my foot is the empty tequila bottle, I remember how drunk Louis really is.

My eyebrows furrow in distress when I make myself pull away and there's a sinking feeling in my tummy when I look at how drunk Louis looks.

"What's wrong?" Louis asks, still holding onto my cheeks. His lips are swollen and shiny from the kissing, making him look even more sexy than he already looked before the kiss.

"I can't do this, Louis," I grunt in disappointment. This moment was to good to be true.

"You can't do this?" Louis repeats in confusion.

"You're drunk, Lou," I sigh, mindlessly caressing his waist with my hands.

"So?" he slurrs, leaning in again but I stop him.

"No. Lou, you're waisted. You have no idea what you're doing here," I tell him and hate myself every second of it, "you're probably not even going to remember this, tomorrow."

"But it feels so gooood," he whines, pressing himself closer to me.

"I know, baby," I groan with a pained expression on my face, "I know, but I don't want to kiss you if you can't even remember it, tomorrow."

"I can! I will. I promise," he says, but his eyes are focused on my lips and I know he's just saying it to reassure me.

"I'm sorry, Lou," I hum, "I want to, believe me. Shit, I want you so bad. But I know I will be hurt tomorrow if you can't remember and I can't risk that."